The Little Things That Keep Us Going
by embracing
Summary: The little things that keep us going. Remus had his sock rearranging, Alice had her diaries, Potter had his quidditch. What did Lily have? And would it help her figure out her Problem?


**The Little Things That Keep Us Going**

Also known as

**Snogging Senseless**

Also known as

**The Problem**

Filing is the little thing that keeps me going. It's the same thing as re-arranging sock draws for Remus, writing in diaries for Alice, and playing quidditch for Potter. It's the thing that keeps my head from running around in circles from over-load. It's the thing that leaves room for other things to fit through. It's also the thing that helps me figure out my Problems.

I come to this shocking little detail as I glance about the many papers spread out on the common room floor.

It's five thirty in the morning. Don't look at me like that, it's hard to sleep when you have A Problem. The other shocking thing is, I didn't know that I was being sleep deprived from A Problem, until I was filing. So it proves my point about how it helps me sort out my Problems.

The thing is, I have no idea what this Problem is, therefore, I am filing in the early hours of the morning to uncover what The Problem is.

My transfiguration notes lie to one side, my folder beside it empty. I sigh and begin organising my notes into groups. Somehow, today, I'm not in the mood for filing, which is shocking news really, because I have to figure out what The Problem is, or I will have many more nights of sleep-deprivedness.

Wait… did I just say sleep-depreivedness? It's already taking a toll.

I put the transfiguration notes to one side, and pick up one of my old muggle folders. The ones with the metal binders and paper with holes in them.

This is my folder of quotes. Quotes ranging from things Potter says, to things my friends say, to famous quotes I love. I love them almost as much as I love filing.

I open the binders and glance at the first quote: 'Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable we have to alter it every six months.'

Then I hear stumbling as someone falls down the steps. James Potter gets up slowly shaking his head and brushing dirt from the small amount of clothing on his body, otherwise known as his quidditch boxers (do you see what I mean about quidditch being the thing that keeps him going). He blinks his eyes owlishly and shrugs on his shirt. I try to avoid looking at the muscles rippling, but they're so obvious. Not as obvious and Benny Stevens who is so built he must work out six times a day, but nice muscles. Muscles that you feel safe in, not muscles that look like they could strangle you by looking at you.

Shirt on, he shakes his head one more time before coming to sit next to me. He places his glasses on my transfiguration notes while rubbing his eyes, he slides them back on his nose.

I turn away when he looks at me, trying to be engrossed in my quotes. It doesn't work.

'What is with you Potter?' I yell as he just sits and stares at me.

'What? I didn't say anything?' he says in his defence. I glare at him holding back a growl.

'You just came down and stared at me! What is with you? Do you have some sort of Lily radar and whenever I am awake and you are not, you body seems to suddenly wake to be with me?' I break off to get some air. Somehow, I always forget to breath when shouting at Potter.

'No, I don't have one implanted, but if I did, it would explain a lot.'

He smiles, and I try to stop the corners of my mouth twitching. Instead I ignore him and curl my feet up so my knees are hugging my chest. There I try to figure out The Problem.

There was only six possible reasons for The Problem:

I have cancer and that is what is keeping me up at night

A certain grudge on a certain someone is taking its toll on me.

I have fallen in love and are unaware of the person

A mermaid has currently taken my body as hostage and I am not yet aware of it

Someone has possessed me and I am not back in original form

My three year old cousin has forced me to watch The Little Mermaid one more time.

Of course, I know that half of these reasons are unlikely, but that doesn't stop me from having A Problem that needs to be sorted out. The thing is the only clues I have on The Problem, is that it is A Problem. It's causing me to lose sleep, bump into things, and think of…

'Ow!' I yell, holding my injured hand to my face, feeling tears threatening to spill. I would not let Potter see them.

'What's wrong?' he asked, clearly concerned, but knowing me, doesn't come over to check.

'I leant my hand, on that…' I point to the open binders, sharp and glittering. I see blood starting to run down my wrist.

'James,' I say desperately holding my hand to him. It's a family thing. My family doesn't like the sight of blood. Something about it doesn't agree with us. He frowns at my wrist then points his wand at it.

The pain immediately stops, and before my own eyes, the cut shrivels up to nothing.

I look at my hand where he is still holding it gently. I glance up at him.

'How did you do that?' I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I don't know what's come over me, I just can't seem to take my eyes off James. He shuffles uncomfortably.

'Oh, they come in handy for matches. You know, when you've got a small cut, and you don't want to hold up the game.' His eyes never leave mine, and I manage to rip my gaze away.

'Oh, right,' I say, taking my hand back slowly, almost expecting the cut to reappear. I look at it as it gives a slight throb.

I try to continue with my previous train of though. I sink onto the floor and pick up my quotes folder, ignoring the fact that it's a traitor since it stabbed me and carefully shut the binders. I turn a couple of pages and glance at the first quote.

I gasp suddenly, the realisation of The Problem hitting me. The reason I'm losing sleep, bump into things, and think of… James. Yes that's right. I can't deny it any longer, I have been thinking about James non stop. It's like he's permanently etched onto my brain. It was because The Problem was…

'What's wrong Lil? Does it still hurt?' he takes my hand gently, 'has the cut re-opened? It did it to me once…'

He trails off as I glance up at him, tears welling in my eyes. A tear drops.

'Lil?' he asks, wiping it away.

I get up suddenly.

'Oh no!' I whisper.

'Lil?' he repeats standing up too. What am I going to do?

'Okay,' I start pacing. When in doubt, pace. 'So, hypothetically speaking, if someone had a crush on you, for a really long time, and you never quite liked them back. But then, since they stopped asking you out and started being you friend, you found out the reason you had A Problem, resulting in sleep-deprivedness, you bumping into things and never getting your mind off them, was that you liked them back. Maybe even loved them,' I take a deep breath, never looking into James' eyes. 'What would you do? Hypothetically speaking.'

James stays silent for a long time, the crease in his forehead showing deeply as it forms a frown. After a while he grins like it's Christmas come early.

'I'd have to say that I'd probably snog them senseless,' he says, coming towards me.

'Oh,' my voice breaks, 'you would?'

'Yes, Lil, I definitely would,' he says,

And then, he swoops down and kisses me senseless.


End file.
